


Night of Fires and Tears of Blood

by Nightingalewritings



Series: The Alorr’ika Chronicles [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Feels, Coruscant Guard underground railroading now, Fox deserts his post, Gen, Mythology - Freeform, Naboo mourns their queen, No Beta We Die Like Clones, Noooo Ponds!, Ponds is snuggly, The galaxy is on fire, fox did NOT sign up to be tackled, grab those tissues., he is holding a fragile human child!, he saw a baby and went that’s mine now, mostly Coruscant actually, no really, ponds is part cat, ponds totally tackles people, this isn’t a pleasant fic, you may want to grab the tissues for this first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24242704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightingalewritings/pseuds/Nightingalewritings
Summary: The fall of the Republic leaves many a person stumbling and torn from everything they knew. But Hope and purpose is found in the unluckiest of directions.
Relationships: CC-1010 | Fox & CC-6454 | Ponds, CC-1010 | Fox & Luke Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Darth Vader
Series: The Alorr’ika Chronicles [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652077
Comments: 28
Kudos: 171





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lykae_Sky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lykae_Sky/gifts).



> Lykae_Sky because you are a doll. You were the first person to spam my inbox constantly about Luke and Fox. So have at it. 
> 
> Also, this is a 2 parter because I got karking insane from looking at this still.

The Republic of the Galaxy fell not in a single day they say. Fives years of war and systems fighting against each other gave way to 30 days of the biggest blaze on Coruscant. When it was over two thirds of the planet had been turned to ash and rubble. It no longer mattered where you were living, whether Upper Crust or Lower Levels. The fires had started in the Purging of the Temple they claimed. 

_The Jedi, those traitors started it!_ Whispered and grew from one corner of the galaxy to the other. 

An Emperor of a war torn galaxy and a burnt capital is what Palpatine had inherited. The Temple and the Senate had been gutted clean. Senators fled during the destruction. Some to homes they thought they would be welcomed in, others to hidden parts unknown. Underground where they hoped to work from the shadows and bring back their beloved Republic. But they could not see the virus itself that had burrowed within their midst. They could only see the symptoms of said evil manifested in a new Empire. 

Naboo was different. 

They mourned for a Queen they had loved with a fierce devotion. Children slaughtered in their mother’s womb, never to see the day they could once walk tall and proud. Even the weather on Naboo had turned into a grey drizzle that wouldn’t let up. 

The Naboo weren’t even granted the small single mercy of being able to bury their Fallen Queen’s body. Something had taken their Queen in her death, and she would never be properly returned home for burial. A fury took the People of Naboo, held tight to their chests and lashed underneath their daily movements. This was no small slight to them.

The galaxy may look at the Naboo and see frivolous layers of cloth and opulence of wealth. Naboo was known for their luxury and their soft ways and their plasma. But Naboo had not always been so. The people of Naboo knew their history and their lore. They knew behind their Queen’s painted face and yards of fabric could hide deadly weapons and skill. For they were Daughters of Naboo, daughters of the first queen who had been a warrior. 

Legend and lore were told from mother to daughter. Passed down knowledge and techniques of how to hide a blaster, how to make a blast-weave into a perfect dress and how one must wear their hair. Messages were learned from embroidery and flower placements. Hairstyles and dress choices could make or break a political agreement faster than a missed sentence or welcome. 

Vibro-knives disguised as hair sticks and ornaments, overlooked by all but those of the Daughters of Naboo. Face paint and designs hid the wearer’s features, making her more doll-like to her audience. Skirts of official outfits hid hold out blasters and covered their owner in a protective shell that most everyone would overlook. Why would the Queen be anything more than that of a figure head? Why would a Queen who loved democracy be anything else but a peacekeeper? She had no use for being a War Bringer.

Nearly a hundred thousand generations ago, before the Naboo had come to Naboo they had been warriors. They had been of Mando’ade descent. But Naboo had turned away from her brother, turned to peace and to living instead of bringing about War. Naboo had wanted creation and life, not Mando’a’s destructive love. 

So she left for the stars, traveled for nearly a hundred months until she landed on an unremarkable planet that was green and lushly covered. 

And there she lived. For nearly all the rest of her life, collecting those that came to her for a peaceful life. 

Naboo would not always be peaceful. The wars that she would try to escape from would drag her back. Her brother would hunt her down and beg her help once more, promising to leave her to her peace afterwards. Naboo did not want to help Mando’a. 

But family was family and as they say; _Mando’ad draar digu_. 

( _Mandalorians never forget_.)

The Naboo have their own version of the phrase; _Membri memoria perpetuum._

( _Naboo’s memory is forever.)_

Naboo had been Mando’ade once. She knew her family ties, and family was important.

She may have had no use for her brother, and his delights. She may have had no use of armour and blasters and knives. Naboo much preferred soft words and dancing halls, flowers in the windows and placement of dinner guests. The selection of wine paired with elegant dishes may convey a scathing remark or insult. 

_Membri memoria perpetuum_.

But Naboo had been of the same blood of Mando’a. 

Naboo had been taught that family was important. Sometimes it was the only thing one had left that the galaxy could not tear from your grip. 

When one was called to arms, the only thing one could do was answer.

_Membri memoria perpetuum._

In the days of the Empire’s birth born of fire and hate and terror, The Daughters of Naboo answered the call of family for the first time in a thousand generations. Yes they came during the siege of Naboo. During the blockade, the Sisters helped their Queen escape the planet to gain help. 

But never before had they answered the call of a dead Queen. 

_Membri memoria perpetuum._

Fabric was gathered, protective blast-weave fabric that was the color of blood dawns and smoke smoke covered sunsets. Needle and thread came out of sewing baskets and the Daughters set to work. Gowns were fashioned in simple somber lines. Clasps were fashioned, but never saw the polish rag. Boots were left equally as dull. 

Blasters and knives were not. They were the recipients of oil and rag. Safeties checked and slipped into tooled leather holsters. 

White face paint was applied. White and as pure as the snow on Concord Dawn. Innocent faces to the galaxy, hiding beneath their benign a deadliness that few could match.

Twin blood dots on their cheeks that were Naboo and Mando’a. Siblings torn apart by their ethics. But bound together by blood and familiar bonds.

The blood red scar of Remembrance created with a stroke of a brush. Red honoring their ancestors and the color of blood spilled on battlefields. 

Hair done in war braids that had never been applied in the stories of their grandmother’s tales. 

They all knew how to do them, all Daughters were taught that. But one did not fashion war braids unless one intends to answer War’s fickle call. For their fallen Sister and former Queen, the Daughters would. For their Fallen Queen, they would bring down destruction and afflict their new Emperor’s house down. From the underneath him of course. They struck at him from the bedrock. Hidden in shadows and covered by the cloak of night and sorrow. 

_Membri memoria perpetuum._

As the Daughters of Naboo set about their war, the Queen of Naboo (the one actually still breathing) played the part of a helpless monarch. She played to the Empire’s flute and drum rhythm. Never revealing the charade that played out behind her heavy robes and underneath her seat of power. She and her people dressed for mourning, eyes bowed low with sorrow for their dead Queen and missing Heirs. The utter lack of life that the whole travesty had wrought on their planet. 

One such mission brought back nothing more than another missing Sister. One of theirs; the Fallen’s double had been taken on an early mission. One of the only ones to go missing. Taken on Coruscant. Never to be found. Only days after losing their Beloved Queen. 

_Membri memoria perpetuum._

So the Queen stopped them. Naboo would put their knives and blasters away. Fabric folded and locked in chests. Hair let down from their braids to form new hairstyles. Something simple, one might wear for farming. Makeup and red paint would be forgotten on vanities, lids on. 

The Empire was too new. The Emperor was too paranoid of who he let close to him. Let their war rest for years. Let the Emperor grow old and placid, eyes turning from Naboo to Mando’a. Let Naboo’s brother carry the fight until Naboo could slip beneath the Emperor’s nose and stab him with a shiv. In all things, Naboo and Mando’a are different, but they are brother and sister. And Naboo held the same values as Mando’a. 

_Mando’ad draar digu_.

**ALOR’IKA CHRONICLES**

  
  


The air was filled with heavy stifling layers of smoke. Ash sat on your tongue with a sharp hopelessness. Speeders and furniture, belongings that were no longer needed lay thrown and buried where they stood. 

Piles of rubble stood in place of many once grand buildings. There were no clear skies. Not for weeks after the bombing raids and then the fires had sprung up from. Lungs had tightened and could not break free of the oppressive choking. Children were coated with dirt and soot. Those still alive clutched to their mother’s breast. 

Senators and beings who once flaunted their wealth moved the Lower Levels, but even they would not be safe from the bombing runs. The few that could, took their leave of Coruscant. Fled in the days of the early raids. 

_The galaxy itself was falling apart_ , they said. _Even Coruscant has fallen to the Seppies. Our Brilliant General has been slain on the battlefield. There is no hope for us now._

The Guard had been sweeping the ruins of the Senator Quarter for days now. Trying to update an ongoing missing persons lists, fielding calls, warrants for arrests, and the occasional hysterical civilian. The guard were tired. They were stressed. Been running for days with little to no sleep and only rations. 

The Guard were the last ones to stand in defense of Coruscant. Something that should have never happened. They were only there as a last line of defense. And yet that very line itself had been broken through and responsibility lay like a heavy cloak of burden on Commander Fox’s shoulders. 

They all were feeling it. That sorrow and fear and anger and grief that seemed to swell with every breath and body they found. Lives wiped out far sooner then even a Clone’s should have been. 

The apartment that Fox;s squad was clearing was 500 republic. Home of a once great woman who all the clones adored. 

Fox felt a twinge of his cold dead heart as he looked around the sombre colors and the missing windows. 

The apartment was trashed. 

Walls blackened with soot and blaster burns. Insulation and wiring and metal framing revealed in carelessly scattered holes. The carpet, once red and the owner’s pride and joy, was now a dirty sooty brown. Glass and bits were ground underfoot. Smashed and smothered within fibers, never to be removed. Stained beyond it’s life, never to be useful again. High quality nerf leather couches had been filled with blaster holes. Torn and shredded. Pieces that waved in the breeze forlornly. Curtains lay trampled beneath booted feet. 

‘Fan out. Look for Organa." Fox pulled a blaster free, hand coming up to signal two 2-man teams to start a sweep. "If possible, detain him. If not, the Empire has no use for another traitor."

Fox slid silently through hallways of more trashed and discarded rooms. Eyes searching diligently for any sign of their prey. He wouldn’t let this one escape. Not for his deeds. He had taken _their_ Senator and turned her into a traitor. Organa had taken what was theirs ( _one of the rare few that the Clones had claimed as theirs._ ) and had twisted her into something that could not be retrieved. His _Alor’vod_ and his _verd_ were gone now. Died in the battle that claimed the last few remaining of his brothers. He had promised _Mzazi_ . He had promised to make sure that An’ika’s family was safe while Rex’ika protected him out on the frontlines. Made sure that An’ika would finally meet _Buir_ and _Mzazi_ again. 

Fox could only pray to Kot that _Buir_ and _Mzazi_ had escaped Kamino before it, too, had fallen.

"Ah-wu-wu-ahwoowwooo!"

Fox’s shoulders tightened, hand reflexively pulled and pointed his blaster. Eyes scanning for the threat. Seeing just the same plainly destroyed hallway and piles of untouched rubble, Fox began to relax. Kept moving forward and clearing sections. 

"Ah-woo-wu-ahooowwoo!"

The cry was louder this time. More sharper and drawn out, like something was in pain. It was a sound of harsh sounding anguish to the Commander’s ears. 

"What the hell?"

Fox kept moving forward, stepping lightly and hand on his blaster until he reached the corner of the apartment where the howls kept coming from. The commander paused, eyes scanning the door in front of him. It had once been made with an elegant workmanship. Now it hung from a single hinge, creaked in the wind as it howled around the squad of men. Broken, barely hanging on, no longer doing it’s proper job. What a waste.

But behind that door led to the master bedroom. The most inner sanctum of the Senator’s life. 

"Ah-wu-wu-owwww-ah!"

It echoed around in the empty burnt out rooms, giving the Commander a start. What had once been an eerie sombre burnt out grave had been shattered by some one or _thing_ still alive. Someone who should not be in here. 

Fox had been hoping to hear footsteps, Organa trying to escape from his earned fate. He had been hoping to hear the clattering of footsteps. Bumped over furniture or shattering of vases or knick-knacks.

Fox raised his blaster, pointed it sure as he cleared the darkened corners. Hoping for something to jump out at him so he could just sithing shoot the damned thing. Blaster braced his opposing wrist, as he shone a light into corners. 

Nothing.

"Ahhh-wuw-ahhhhhh!" 

Fox cleared the front section of the bedroom, footsteps crunching and grinding on once valuable memorabilia. Items that their owner had taken great care and joy in. But their owner had no need for such items. Not anymore. Their owner was dead. Just another face and name that few would mourn for in the upcoming years. 

Finally he found it. 

A small wrapped bundle that moved and thrashed. It was laying in the corner of the room, close to where the balcony had once been. A clear circle of rubble and shrapnel formed around it. But Fox still couldn’t tell what was in the bundle to cause such spine shivering screaming howl that echoed in his head. 

Fox advanced forwards. Ever forwards. Ha! What a _karked_ up lie. The galaxy wasn’t progressing, it was regressing. Holstered his weapon, he wouldn’t be needing it for this. The bundle wasn’t even the size of a full grown stiil. No way was this the missing Senator that Fox had been commanded to find. 

Gloved hands reached forwards, shifted the fabric bundle towards him, breath caught in his throat. 

A single breath in.

Fox tugged the fabric away, muscles bunching to pull himself away from skull-crushing jaws.

A single breath out.

It was not a _striil_ that Fox came bucket to bundle with. 

_A baby?!_

There in front of him, in the middle of a bombed out bedroom in the Senator Quarter on Coruscant was a baby. A pale small bundle of delicate bones and screwed up face ready to begin howling once more. 

Fox yanked is hand backwards, fumbling with pulling his gauntlets and bracers off in a way he had never seemed to have a problem with before. Bucket was discarded just as fast until it landed with an uncaring thump to the side of the man. 

"Shhh. Ad’ika." Fox gently tried to pick the small wailing child up. 

One hand cradled the small skull in the cup of his palm. The other curled around the torso. Too small. This child was far too small to not be with his mother. 

This child was too little, too small and fragile to be very old. Where were his parents? His family? This child would not be able to survive for much longer if Fox could not find his parents.

How does one take care of a wailing baby?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation;
> 
> Alor'vod- title that the Clones call Anakin. Literally General brother.  
> Buir- parent  
> Striil- Strill
> 
> Mzazi- mother


	2. Into New Ponds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now with 100% more Ponds! Fox just wanted to keep this baby asleep. Was that too much to ask for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys! I’ve finally gotten around to making a tumblr! To go hit me over there! I accept all the things! My tumblr link is on the Series page for this as well as my profile.

  
Staff Sergeant Strings opened his mouth, paused, raised a hand to gesture. Paused once more, shook his head and turned to walk away. No this was really not a good time to talk to the Commander about trivial things. Fox looked like he was half a second from completely losing his karked overly stressed mind.

It wasn’t really a good look, Strings thought. He patted the front pocket on his greys, discreetly checking for his knitting needles. One never knew when one needed a good stabbing weapon or something to help de-stress.

Strings set out in search of Commander Thorn. He would know what to do. Commander Thorn always knew what to do if Strings couldn’t get a hold of Commander Fox.

**_ALOR’IKA CHRONICLES_**

Commander Thorn did in fact know what to do and enlisted the entirety of the Guard into helping him. Commander Fox could no longer stay here on Coruscant. 

He and a few of the other vod that needed off and as far away from the Empire would get shipped out. All vod knew the location of their home. But it wasn’t on Kamino, no Mzazi had made sure that throughout the ranks of clones leaving Kamino were hidden directions in every piece of armour. She had left them a map to follow, and only the Vod could read her instructions properly. 

The Commander wasn’t going to release that bundle of crying baby anytime soon, not even to hold a cup of the good caf. 

Thorn may have been a loyal soldier of the Empire. And didn’t that leave a karked up taste in his mouth as he said it in his head. But Thorn had been a clone, one of Mzazi’s and he knew as well as everyone else how much it would physically hurt if Mzazi turned brown disappointed eyes at him. How she would quietly ask him if there hadn’t been a better way to do his job. One that could make him proud to be her _mtoto_.

He would do anything to keep Mzazi from giving him that look. He would do better. _Be better for Mzazi_. 

There were no Jetii to bother with the casualty lists. There was no one to care about a few dozen troopers suddenly missing or ships gone in the night. Thorn could make sure that those who really needed to leave could do so under the cover of darkness. Make sure the rotations all knew their patrols and that there was an explicit hole that several ships could slip through without even a notice. 

"Radar, take your break around fifth hour, yeah? I heard that there was a new bakery that opened down on the 89th quarter?" Thorn commented drily, refilling his extra large 

Radar eyed the cup, hand extended like it was a snake about to bite him. "Of course, Commander. I heard that they’ve got the best Naboo custard rolls this side of the Lower Levels. Been meaning to try them out as a matter of fact, sir."

"Thatta vod." 

**ALOR’IKA CHRONICLES**

Ponds skunk through the huge farmhouse on quiet feet. He knew that Mzazi would make him help clean if he got caught, but still. 

This was the most important part! 

It wasn’t often, no scratch that. It wasn’t ever that Ponds could get the drop on Fox and it end well.... hmmm.. he needed the _perfect_ spot to get the drop on him from.

Hmmm... 

Choices. 

Choices. 

Ponds moved through the hallway, eyes darting from all the nooks to the occasional cranny. No, not that one. That held Buir’s gear. Not that one either. That was too small.

Hmm... maybe the chair? 

No, it had the wrong sight lines and the angles were all wrong for him to move quickly...

_Oh!_

The door began to swing open. Hinges creaking with such utter blatant disregarding slowness that Ponds hated. He already had to wait months for this to happen. It took all of his patience and self control to ease himself slowly into a crouch. 

Weight on his toes, eyes on the target waiting for his chance. Hands eased into the perfect open handed grab. 

This was his chance! His _one_ chance to get Fox!

"Mzazi!" Alpha’s voice echoed throughout the house, briefly distracting Ponds for the barest of seconds.

There was Fox! 

Ponds moved into a blur of limbs and pounced. Right at Fox, coming from the perfect angle of the staircase, giving him the advantage of height as well as a good running start to make the _utter perfect_ tackle! 

**ALOR’IKA CHRONICLES**

  
  


Fox stood next Fives, eyeing his vod with a scrutiny that would normally result with confessions. Fox did not have such luck with Fives.... that must have been because he was Torrent. There had always been _something_ off about Torrent, Fox thought. 

The baby that he had found days ago, lay nestled in his arms. Finally asleep and no longer wailing. It had taken hours to rock him asleep. How did natborns handle this? Wasn’t it just easier to get a Little when they were capable of at least sitting up by themselves?! 

"What aren’t you telling me, Fives?" Fox asked suddenly, breaking the quiet air around them. They had made it to the Homestead, and Fives had started lagging behind him as they headed for the door. There was also a glint in his eyes that Fox only knew came right before Torrent found themselves in very dangerous situations!

"Nothing!" Fives piped up. Way too quickly to be anything but _suspicious_. That all but confirmed Fox’s worry. "Why would I know something that you don’t know, ori’vod?"

Kark. 

Here he thought he could actually keep this child asleep longer then two hours at a time. 

"Uhuh." Fox stepped up the wooden aged creaking steps, steps sure. Eyes scanned the perimeter instinctively as a hand reached out and pressed on the pad. 

He was immediately subjected to a terrifying sight. 

Ponds was in motion, coming at him from up. Fox didn’t even have seconds to think, his arms wrapped around the sleeping bundle. His face went through a series of expressions ranging from a smile to wide eyes, exasperation before finally settling down to dawning horror. 

  
  


"Vod!" Ponds’ voice was _horrifyingly_ cheerful as he barreled into his sibling. Arms wrapped around midsection as his momentum carried them further. "You’re back!"

"I’m holding a fragile human being, Ponds!" Fox growled, back hitting the lawn outside of the deck. 

Ponds was wrapped around him, _hugging_ him like a sarlaac devouring it’s food. 

Fives the traitorous sneaky traitor that he was had stepped to the side and in his hand was a holorecorder. There was a reason Fives was his _least_ favorite brother.

"I missed you so!"

"Ponds, let go." Fox let the back of his head hit the grass, going limp beneath Ponds. There was no way he could twist out from under the other. Not if he wanted to keep the baby asleep. "Let go, ponds."

"But I’ve missed you! Who else is gonna grind my face into a perfectly new carpet?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations;
> 
> Vod- sibling  
> Ori’vod; older sibling  
> Jetii; Jedi 
> 
> Mzazi; mother  
> Mtot; child


End file.
